Since I have been here in France and Flanders, men have called me, in their fantasy, the Varlet with the Velvet Pouch, because of this hawk purse which I carry by my side; but my true name, when at home, is Quentin Durward." "Durward!" said the querist; "is it a gentleman's name ?" "By fifteen descents in our family," said the young man; "and that makes me reluctant to follow any other trade than arms." "A true Scot! Plenty of blood, plenty of pride, and right great scarcity of ducats, I warrant thee .-- Well, gossip," he said to his companion, "go before us, and tell them to have some breakfast ready yonder at the Mulberry grove; for this youth will do as much honour to it as a starved mouse to a housewife's cheese.

And for the Bohemian--hark in thy ear." His comrade answered by a gloomy but intelligent smile, and set forward at a round pace, while the elder man continued, addressing young Durward, "You and I will walk leisurely forward together, and we may take a mass at Saint Hubert's Chapel in our way through the forest; for it is not good to think of our fleshly before our spiritual wants." [This silvan saint...

was passionately fond of the chase, and used to neglect attendance on divine worship for this amusement.

While he was once engaged in this pastime, a stag appeared before him, having a crucifix bound betwixt his horns, and he heard a voice which menaced him with eternal punishment if he did not repent of his sins.

He retired from the world and took orders...